


Seven Days

by Taiven



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 01:29:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6403147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taiven/pseuds/Taiven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At Dean's new high school there is a rumour about a second year who will date the first person who asks him out on Monday morning, only to break up with them a week later. Dean thinks nothing of it at first, but when he meets the boy he asks him out on a whim. It was a joke, or at least he thought it was. Turns out the best friendships in life are those you don't see coming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Monday

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: The year is 1996. Dean is 17.
> 
> Warnings: Foul language, violence, child abuse, and other adult themes.
> 
> A/N: I took the idea for this story from a manga called "Seven Days" (yes, I took the name too) so please give credit to the writer, Tachibana Venio, and the artist Takarai Rihito. I just thought it was an interesting concept and wanted to put a Supernatural spin on it, so no copyright infringement intended. Anyway, read the manga because it's absolutely adorable. This story is a lot less adorable and a whole lot more dark, but I hope you enjoy it too.

**9:10 AM**

I sighed as I twirled my pen between my fingers, not even pretending to concentrate on what the teacher was saying. The old woman's voice was soft and quiet, making her lesson even more uninteresting, if that were possible. Listening would only put me to sleep, and I refused to nap now. I wanted to say it was because a hunter never let his guard down, but the nightmares were the real reason. I didn't want to suffer through another one so soon. Not after the one I had experienced last night. And the night before that. And the one before that…

I tried to stop the memory from rising up before me now, but it came unbidden, like some sort of unwanted visitor crashing through my mind's door. I recalled the woman's eyes, wide and terrified, as she was ripped apart. The image tormented me on a regular basis, never beckoned but always vivid. For a moment I thought I could hear her screaming and I sat rigid in my chair, my hand grasping the pen I had been fiddling with until my knuckles turned white. I wanted to stand up and shout and knock desks over but I forced myself to remain still and quiet, determined to ride the adrenaline rush as I told myself it was just a recollection.

I was sitting in a classroom. I was not standing in the middle of a forest path. I was surrounded by high school students. I was not near creatures that would haunt the dreams of these teenagers if they ever saw one. I was staring at a chalkboard. I was not, in fact, staring at the shredded remains of a human being.

It was a difficult task to accomplish. I had not slept well for the past few days and I was already fighting exhaustion caused by the combat drill I had pushed myself through earlier that morning. I was entering the stage of sleep deprivation where I stopped giving a crap about whether people thought I was crazy or not. Screaming and hitting things right now didn't seem like that bad of an idea. Maybe while I was at it I could tell all these dumbasses the truth about their world. I wouldn't mind shattering their realities. I could crush the shards into a million pieces.

As I focused on my breathing, trying to calm myself down and avoid making a scene, I looked around the classroom, wondering if anyone knew what I was thinking about. The guy to my left had his head propped up by a hand, clearly bored out of his mind. The girl to my right was scribbling things in a notebook, trying hard to record every single one of the teacher's words. No one was paying attention to what I was thinking or feeling or doing. That both comforted and dismayed me.

I began to watch the clock. Minutes ticked by like they were purposely taking their time to annoy me. There were still ten minutes left of class but I wasn't sure if I would make it. I finally managed to release my grip from the pen I held and placed it calmly on the top of my desk. Then I raised my hand.

"Yes, Dean?"

"Can I go to the washroom?" I asked quickly.

The teacher smiled warmly at me and I tried to remember her name, but gave up quickly. "Of course you _may_."

I bolted out of there like the place was on fire. I didn't go to the washroom, but instead exited the building through the back doors, entering "the garden", as the students liked to call the walled-in area behind the school. I immediately made my way to an isolated stretch of the brick wall that surrounded the space, fighting the urge to punch the structure and break my fingers. Instead, I slammed the heel of my hand against the wall, again and again, taking in the pain as the gritty texture of the bricks scratched at my skin.

The rush of energy that had swelled inside of me only minutes before began to dissipate, until my body followed my brain and entered its own stage of exhaustion. I was spent, a breeze making me shiver as it cooled the sweat slicking my skin.

_School is a fucking joke._ That's what I thought as I leaned against the wall and let my head fall back. Anger was quickly replacing the adrenaline, just like it always did, and I geared it towards school because I didn't want to risk another attack.

_Attack_. That's what I called it, because I didn't really have another name for the reaction I had just experienced. All I knew was that I felt that way whenever I thought about-

I stopped myself from thinking altogether. Then I released a long sigh, my heartbeat finally beginning to return to its original tempo. The fresh air seemed to calm me, although its frigidness burned my throat a little. _All those kids in there have no fucking clue._

It had only been a week since I had arrived at Kimberley Trenton High School. Located in South Boston, the school was neither in the safest area nor the wealthiest. The wall I was leaning against was supposed to keep unwanted visitors out. However, I figured it had probably been constructed with the intent of trapping the students inside. Even the area I was standing in looked like some sort of overgrown prison yard. It was clear that it had once been a garden, but the plants had been neglected over the years and were now just a bunch of scraggly weeds plotted randomly across the space. A couple of isolated bleachers had been pushed against the far wall, but they were rusty and often held puddles in the numerous dents that littered their metal frames.

I glanced at the back of the old, deteriorating school building, shoving my hands in my pockets as another gust of chilly air ran past me. I knew the interior was warm, but I couldn't stand to be in there any longer. It was always the fucking same. High school had become a parody of itself. It seemed everyone knew it, but they were all too indifferent to care. Instead, they all played their parts. The jocks would hassle the nerds in the hallways and the pretty, popular girls would flirt with anything that walked by with a social status. The teachers took every excuse they could to feign teaching while complaining about their small paycheques in their undersized lounge room. Useless rumours would spread like wildfire, beginning at one end of the cafeteria and reaching the opposite side before the lunch bell with plenty of time to spare for a smoke in the bathroom. I had seen it in every high school I had come across, and I was sick of it.

It felt like I'd been here for much longer than seven days. It always did, no matter what school I enrolled in, perhaps because they were all the same, blending with each other to form one giant memory of educational institutions that never seemed to end. I consoled myself by remembering that there was only one year left before I graduated. One more year of high school. If I could survive a poltergeist attack, I could certainly survive this, or so I hoped.

Something large and heavy dropped from the sky and landed to my side, immediately setting off my instincts. I was crouching with a knife ready in my right hand, eyes quickly darting to the object that lay before me, trying to decipher what it was and how I would counter any attack it made. But then I realized it was only a backpack. A plain, black bag.

I heard scuffling and then I was looking up. The sun blinded my view but it was suddenly obstructed by a dark figure. Someone was climbing over the brick wall, and in moments the intruder had jumped down and was standing a few feet from me.

I sighed again as I slipped the knife back into its hidden position next to my shin, making sure the stranger didn't catch a glimpse of it. Then I slid down the wall and sat on my haunches. I had come out here to get away from school and the teachers and the students, but it seemed it was impossible to find privacy anywhere on this property.

The boy stooped down and grabbed his bag by a strap, flinging it onto his back, not seeming to care if his clothes got dirty from the dirt that now smeared the bag. I watched him using my peripheral vision, unwilling to look up and preferring to remain silent. I wasn't going to ask what the guy had been doing scaling the wall, because honestly, I didn't give a shit. If he was late and trying to arrive without being penalized, mission accomplished. I wasn't about to rat the guy out. After all, I had asked for a washroom break nearly ten minutes ago. I wasn't exactly the example of a model student myself.

"Sorry if I startled you," a quiet voice said.

"You didn't," I grunted. "I don't get scared that easily."

"That's... good I suppose." The student's reply was hesitant, and I wondered why he had replied at all, why he was still talking to me and not rushing to class. "I can't say the same for myself."

I wasn't sure why, but the unusual statement caught my attention and I found myself glancing upwards. The boy was standing to my left, his face turned away from me, looking off in the direction of the school. His hair was black, and when the sun shone on it, the strands appeared to have a bluish tinge.

"You one of those kids who're still afraid of the monster under your bed?" I asked. I had stopped being afraid of that monster a long time ago, ever since I realized there were real monsters to be feared.

"Monsters are real, you know," the boy said without looking at me. It seemed like the statement had been made more for his ears than for mine.

I furrowed my eyebrows, not having expected such a reply. "What?"

The guy glanced my way before leaning back against the brick wall, his hands shoved in his pockets like mine had been only minutes ago. He was staring upwards now, at the sky, the colour of his eyes a deep, reddish brown. I couldn't stop myself from thinking that he was peculiar looking, though not necessarily in a bad way. If I had to guess, I'd say he was half-Asian. His eyes reminded me of a cat's.

"Monsters," he repeated. "I've seen them."

I felt my heartbeat pick up again. "You go around telling people that, they might think you're crazy," I warned, wondering if he knew the truth. Was he different from all the other students?

Dark eyes turned in my direction. The boy smiled faintly, a little by force. "You're right. Forget I said anything."

I cocked my head to the side. Then I stood up, straightening my back. I was slightly taller than the guy, but not by much. "What's your name?"

"Bryce," he replied. "My name is Bryce Caldwell."

I thought the name sounded familiar. Then I remembered. I had heard rumours about this kid, rumours that he would go out with the first person who approached him on a Monday morning, but only to break up with them after seven days. It was like clockwork, I had been told, but girls continued to ask him out because each and every one thought she would be the one who would last longer. None had made it yet, and apparently he never went out with the same girl twice.

I nodded my head slowly. "Huh. So _you're_ the Seven Days guy."

He looked surprised. "You've heard about that?"

"The whole school talks about it. I've only been here a few days and I already know the entire story. I'm guessing you were scaling the wall to avoid the front gate and all the lovely young ladies lined up to ask you out, huh?"

He looked down at the ground. "I didn't know so many people knew about it."

"Well apparently you've got half the school's population asking you out. I don't think something like that goes unnoticed very often."

The guy let out something that sounded like a laugh, but not quite. He was smiling by force again when he lifted his head. "I guess not."

I raised an eyebrow. "So it's true then? You'll go out with the first person who approaches you on Monday morning?"

He nodded his head and I couldn't help but laugh. I was shaking my head when I said, "That's such bullshit." Bryce looked a little taken aback, so I decided to clarify. "You're telling me that even if the ugliest chick in the school came up to you right now and asked you out, you'd say yes? You'd date her for a week?"

Bryce shrugged. "I guess so."

"Yeah right," I scoffed, leaning a shoulder against the wall. "I don't buy that."

The guy looked like he was a little offended as he replied, "I'm not lying."

"All right, then how about this." I took a step forward, narrowing the distance between us. "What would you say if _I_ asked you out?" His eyes widened and I felt a little satisfaction at having stumped him. "Come on," I teased. "I'm asking you out. What are you going to say?"

He opened his mouth to reply but then closed it again. I let out a chuckle at his speechlessness. "That's what I thought," I said, having called his bluff. He scowled, but before he could reply the bell rang, signifying the end of first period. I smirked and turned away, making my way back to the building's rear entrance.

I stopped after a few steps, looking over my shoulder. I had enjoyed this little distraction. I felt more like my normal self again. "And don't worry about the monster under your bed," I called back. "If it were real, you'd probably be dead by now." Then I continued my trek back to school, wondering what would be today's lunch special.

**12:18 PM**

"One helping of Monday Surprise", the old bat croaked as she shovelled a heaping pile of dog shit onto my plate. I grimaced, but tried to continue smiling as I leaned forward over the counter.

"Eleanor, you know I love surprises," I lied, "but I'm willing to bet you have something better than this. You know, like some actual edible-"

"Next!" she shouted, her expression not budging from the scowl permanently imprinted on her face.

Had I really expected anything more? Still, I had to try. "Eleanor, did you get a haircut recently? There's something different about you…"

She looked at me, clearly not amused in the slightest. "Ever since you've started coming to this school I've grown nauseated by your attempts at compliments," she replied in a deep, rusty voice. "So nauseated, in fact, that I haven't been able to eat my own lunch for a week."

I couldn't help but smirk. "You're a tough lady to impress, Eleanor. I hope you enjoy your lunch today as much as I enjoy mine." I held up my tray to show the sloppy mess of crud splattered across the plate. Then I reluctantly shuffled down the line, allowing the next student to discover what surprise Monday held.

God, I hated Mondays.

The cafeteria was busy but I managed to find an empty table in the corner, just like always. I had a suspicion that it was somehow reserved for me, and it didn't take a genius to know who had gone through the trouble of making that happen. As I sat down, a carton of milk and an apple accompanying my Monday Surprise, I was immediately joined by another. Katie Lancaster. Head cheerleader, president of the student body, and hottest chick in school. She had set her sights on me from the very first moment I had walked into Spanish class on my first day, and she had made it glaringly clear to every other girl in the school that I was her property. Those who flirted with me were pretty much committing social suicide. Katie could make your life a living hell if she wanted to, and from what I'd heard, she had done it for a lot less.

I wasn't her property, of course, but sometimes I tossed her a bone and played my part. Like I said, she was hot, and she also happened to find it thrilling when her hand 'accidentally' came across my dick in Spanish class. Getting a hand job beneath the desks at the back of class sure as hell beat focusing on conjugated vowels and how to say 'I am wearing blue pants' in a different language. The only other lingo I was willing to learn was Latin, and that was only because it was known to save hunters' lives from time to time.

"Hi, Dean," Katie smiled, her perfectly straight teeth gleaming a little brighter than normal. I guessed she had undergone some kind of new whitening procedure. They were almost unnaturally bright.

"Hey, Katie," I said, returning my gaze to my tray. I pretended to find my Monday Special appealing as I pushed the brown goop around on my plate, but I never attempted to shovel a spoonful into my mouth. Meanwhile, Katie began to chatter away. She talked about her upcoming 18th birthday and all the fun things she planned to do, like throw the biggest party the school would ever see. Her parents were going to be out of town for a few days, leaving their apartment free to host a party, and she was going to invite only an exclusive number of people to attend. Apparently I was among the lucky few.

I sighed silently to myself, my stomach growling. Why Katie, a rich white girl, was slumming it in this rundown school was beyond me. Apparently she had been kicked out of every private school in Boston due to inappropriate behaviour. I'd heard rumours that she had even broken up several teachers' marriages. These rumours had interested me at first, but after spending a few hours with the girl I had quickly come to the conclusion that she was all talk, or gossip, in her case. She had probably started those rumours herself, because even though she was willing to give hand jobs out in class, it was glaringly obvious that she was still a virgin. I had been with enough girls, and enough types of girls, to know this easily, and to understand that Katie would never admit it.

As she continued to talk, I grew bored quickly. I eventually tuned out and began to look around the cafeteria. It had grown busier since I had sat down, and as my vision skimmed across the tables and their occupants, I met several sets of eyes that flitted away as soon as I met theirs. Of course Katie and I were a hot topic around the school and were often watched during our lunchtime together. Everyone wondered if we were secretly dating, which sometimes amused me but usually just annoyed the hell out of me.

My roaming eyes halted as I caught sight of the boy from earlier. I recalled his name was Bryce. He was sitting at a seat a few tables away, a number of girls surrounding him. They were all giggling about something but he wasn't laughing. He was smiling politely instead, but I could tell it was an act. I had learned from a very young age the importance of being able to tell a fake smile from a real one, and Bryce's was as fake as they came. However, the girls didn't seem to notice as they continued to giggle. I found myself wondering which one of them was the lucky week-long girlfriend Bryce had chosen this morning.

The kid suddenly looked in my direction. Our eyes met for a moment and I held his gaze. The staring contest was born more out of alpha male instinct than anything else. The guy didn't seem like he was going to look away, but then one of the girls snuggled next to his shoulder and he was distracted. I held back a sneer, wondering why he had scaled a wall earlier today to avoid being found by the girls who apparently fawned over him on a daily basis. Then I remembered I was supposed to be listening to Katie and guessed I could relate to him. Girls weren't everything. Sex wasn't always great. Life wasn't always sunshine and lollipops.

I left lunch early to have a cigarette in the men's washroom, leaving a disappointed Katie behind. I didn't smoke often, but I had picked up the bad habit a few months ago, around the same time my attacks had begun. Nicotine didn't stop the images from replaying behind my eyelids, but the whole lung cancer thing made me feel a little better. If I smoked, it was like I was aiding karma. In the future, if I ever developed cancer, I'd know it was punishment for not being able to save that woman. I had told my dad this same reasoning when he had caught me smoking behind one of the motels we were staying at a few weeks after the event. John had torn the cigarette from my lips, had grabbed my chin, and had forced me to look at him as he told me I was a fucking moron.

_I am a fucking moron_ , I thought as I inhaled another lungful of toxic chemicals, despising the taste. I ground the stub out in the sink, leaving a black smudge on the yellowing porcelain. Then I splashed some water on my face and observed my reflection in the mirror for a moment. I looked tired, but not as exhausted as I felt.

I ran a hand down my face as I let out a sigh and turned away. As I left my reflection, I was surprised to see someone standing at the entrance of the washroom. It was Bryce. He was watching me with no discernible expression on his face. We both said nothing for a moment, but then I eventually spoke up. "You need to use the stall or something?" I asked, wondering why he was just standing there. "I'm leaving, so go ahead and take care of your business." I went to walk past him but Bryce stepped in front of my path.

"You shouldn't smoke."

"What?" I gave him a quizzical look, raising one of my eyebrows.

"It's bad for you," he said, his expression still nonexistent. "It causes cancer, makes you smell bad, and turns your skin yellow. Not to mention it makes you look like a moron."

I rolled my eyes, wondering where this was all coming from. "You sound like my dad."

"Your dad sounds smart."

I pinned him with a glare. "He _is_ smart, but you obviously aren't, thinking you can tell me what I can and can't do. Now move out of my way."

I tried to shove past him again but he just took a step back. "I think I have the right to have an input."

I couldn't help but openly scoff. "What the fuck makes you think you have _any_ say in what I do?"

He tilted his head to the side. "Well... we're dating, aren't we?"

I didn't quite have a reaction. I stood there silently, turning his words over in my mind, trying to interpret them in various ways. I eventually came to the conclusion that I had misheard. I let out a bit of a disbelieving laugh, feeling foolish for having conjured up such a scenario. "Sorry, what did you say?" I asked him.

He blinked, but then repeated the same words I had dismissed earlier. "We're dating."

I knew I should be laughing right now, but the sound caught in my throat. The look on Bryce's face was completely serious. "You're fucking with me, right?" was all I could say.

Bryce shook his head, dark strands bouncing back and forth. "You asked me out. You were the _first_ to ask me out this morning, so I'm dating you."

I was flabbergasted. This guy was serious. He thought we were actually a couple. "It was a joke," I explained, making sure my words were clear. "I don't actually want to date you."

Bryce shrugged. "But you asked me. I have to go out with you now."

I rubbed my eyes. "I'm straight, dude."

"I told you I'd date anyone who asked me," he replied in a determined tone. "That doesn't just go for the ugliest girl in school."

I gave him an annoyed look. "You're messed up, you know that?"

"Appearance doesn't bother me," he said. "I suppose that _is_ a little strange, and I guess you can call it messed up, but it's the way I think. Now, I had to reject three girls today because you had already asked me out. If they find out I'm not dating anyone then they're going to be upset."

"Then let them be fucking upset," I said, not quite understanding his reasoning and becoming more pissed off. "Besides, it's called _lying_. Try it."

Bryce shook his head once more. "I don't lie."

"Everyone lies."

"Not me."

"Then your life must be pretty fucking tough."

"It does get bothersome at times, like when fourth year males ask me out."

I scoffed, but I didn't know what to say in retaliation. Technically, I _had_ asked the guy out. It had been a joke, of course, but apparently Bryce hadn't gotten the punch line. I looked away, trying to decide how to handle this bizarre situation. When I returned my gaze to him, the kid was still staring at me, but a crease had appeared between his eyes. It didn't look like he was willing to give this crazy prank up.

"Look, I'm not going to let you walk around telling everyone that we're dating or some messed up shit like that. You have to understand what I'm telling you. I'm _not_ _interested_. Not in you. Not in your stupid little weekly game. Not in this fucking school. I'm gonna be gone from here soon, anyway, so go find someone else to piss off, all right? Or better yet, go make one of those girls I saw you with earlier happy. Kapish?"

For a fraction of second I saw a flash of something cross his face, but before I could discern the emotion it was gone and he was looking down. "Fine," he said. "I won't bother you anymore today." I wondered where his determination had disappeared to in such a short time, but he had already turned around and left the washroom.

I stood in place for a few minutes afterwards, wondering how I had found myself in such a strange position. But then I simply shook my head and made my way out of the room, already late for chemistry class. Seemed like high school could still surprise me.

**10:23 PM**

"Dean."

Dating? Had he actually been serious? Or had Bryce just been getting back at me for playing with him earlier?

"Deeean."

It was so fucking hard to tell with that stupid expressionless face he always had. Would it really kill the guy to lift an eyebrow, maybe smile a little for once and mean it?

Deeeeeean."

" _What_?" I snapped, whipping my head to the side in order to glare at my little brother.

Sam didn't seem fazed by my death stare as he looked at me from his position on the other queen-sized bed. "I asked you to turn up the volume. I can't hear anything."

I rolled my eyes, something I seemed to be doing a lot of lately. We were watching one of Sam's boring documentaries again. I usually didn't mind the ones that involved animal chases and zebras getting pulled apart by hungry lions or hyenas, but ever since witnessing a similar scene involving a human being, I didn't quite have the appetite for them any longer. Luckily, this one was about forensic science, and although it was boring as shit it was better than nothing.

I turned up the volume with the remote and leaned back against the bed's backrest, watching as a woman dressed in a white lab coat placed a slide beneath a microscope and leaned in to examine it. A man's deep voice was saying something about DNA and matching chromosomes, but I quickly tuned out again.

I found myself wondering what was going to happen tomorrow, whether Bryce would continue on with this stupid idea of his or reveal it all to be a joke. I hated the fact that it was bothering me, especially if it turned out to be a stupid joke after all, so I pushed the thoughts from my mind.

A few minutes later the door banged open and our dad walked in. He was wearing a ratty work coat and a faded blue ball cap, both of which were soaked from the heavy rain outside.

"Dad!" Sam beamed as he bounced off the bed and ran to help our father with his jacket. He struggled to hang the heavy coat on a hook by the door, too short to reach. He was busy scrambling atop a chair as John turned to face me. He gave me a nod in greeting and I nodded back. I didn't let the relief I felt show on my face.

"You boys eat dinner yet?" he asked as he placed a hand on Sam's head, ruffling his hair.

"Dean bought us some burgers. They were gross."

John chuckled. "I bet they were."

I wanted to ask him how the hunt had gone, whether he had succeeded in killing the Succubus he was hunting or if he was just here for a reprieve, to gather more information. Before I got the chance to question him he was already making his way to the bathroom, mumbling about how he needed a good, hot shower.

I sighed as Sam scurried back onto his bed and continued to watch the documentary. He didn't seem upset that our dad had been gone for the past week. Usually I wouldn't have minded either - both of us were used to being left by ourselves, sometimes even for months. What bothered me was that John had not asked me to accompany him on this hunt. I knew babysitting Sam or missing school were not the reasons for him doing so. He had refused to bring me along for a number of hunts, ever since I messed up. Ever since I had gotten that woman killed. He had never told me that was the reason, since we never talked about it, but I knew. I wondered if he'd ever trust me again after that disaster.

When John came out of the shower, dressed and clean, I didn't feel like discussing the hunt with him anymore. Instead, I pretended to be absorbed by Sam's documentary, staring straight ahead at the small, crappy television screen. Sam ran off to brush his teeth and I was surprised when John asked me how school was. "Same as usual," I answered, shrugging.

"You make any friends?"

I held back a smirk. "There's a really friendly girl in my Spanish class. She gives me a hand whenever I need it."

"That's good," John said, though I could tell he wasn't really paying attention. Something else was on his mind, and when I looked over at him he was nodding his head slowly, staring off into space.

"Dad?" I called. My voice seemed to snap him out of whatever thought he had lost himself in. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he answered gruffly. "Just tired." He pulled the covers away from the bed and climbed in. "You and Sam only have to share a bed for tonight. I'm leaving again in the morning."

I didn't say anything as I shut off the TV and turned the light off, getting under my own covers. I lay on my side, facing the window, and listened to the sound of a running tap drifting from the bathroom. Sam always insisted on brushing his teeth for two and a half minutes. He even counted. Sometimes I saw his fingers move with the seconds, each rising and then his whole hand crumpling in as he began another set of five. Most kids hated brushing their teeth. I knew I had lied countless times to my mom when she had asked me every night whether I had done it. After she died the question had stopped being asked, and so I had sometimes gone days without brushing. I had the cavities to prove it. Not Sam, though. He was always diligent about it.

I heard the click of the door and then Sam was climbing into the bed next to me. Soon soft snoring filled the room. Both my brother and my father were asleep, but as hard as I tried I couldn't bring myself to close my eyes. I couldn't stop staring at the white, flimsy curtain that covered the large motel window. Behind it, rain pounded the cars resting in the parking lot and the faded asphalt they stood upon.

I was tired as hell, but I knew as soon as I let my eyes slide closed I would see that image in my head again. It would replay on the back of my eyelids like a crappy film strip, over and over again until I was sick. Even if sleep did happen to claim me, I knew I would relive it in my dreams. Part of me longed to experience that, because maybe that way I'd be able to save her. Maybe I would reach her before it was too late and she was bleeding out on the floor, wide, scared eyes staring up at me, asking me why I hadn't saved her, why I had let her die. But I knew I would have to wake up sooner or later, and when reality squirmed its way back into my consciousness I would remember what had really played out and the pain would be as fresh as that day.

Inhaling deeply, I prepared myself for another long, sleepless night.


	2. Tuesday

**7:55 AM**

My eyes felt like they had been rubbed dry and my jaw was aching from yawning by the time I made it to school. Katie was waiting for me by the main entrance and I followed her to her locker as she babbled on about her party some more. Students rushed past us, some in clumps that took up the entire length of the hallway, others by themselves, looking annoyed at the groups that blocked their path and slowed them down.

Katie was playing with the collar of my shirt, looking up at me as she talked about the privacy her bedroom would give us at her party, when I saw Bryce out of the corner of my eye. My head turned on its own, following the guy as he passed by, his backpack hanging on his narrow shoulders, still smudged with dirt. He was staring ahead, but I could tell he wasn't seeing anything in front of him. His body was on autopilot as his mind was distracted by something else in his head.

"Do you know him?" Katie asked me. The tone in her voice was akin to revulsion. I glanced at her, and sure enough, she had that bitchy 'I'm-better-than-you' look on her face as she watched Bryce walk down the hallway. She had worn that same expression last week when a girl had walked into Spanish class sporting a similar skirt as her.

"I've talked with him," I answered, trying to sound nonchalant about the encounter. "Why?"

"I don't know why girls keep asking him out," she huffed, not really answering my question. "He's so messed up."

"Messed up?" I echoed. I had not expected the cruel description. "How's he messed up?"

The bell rang and Katie shut her locker. "See you in Spanish class, Dean," she said, blowing me a kiss and giving a wink before she shimmied her way down the hallway. I had a feeling she hadn't heard a thing I had said to her.

I glanced back the way Bryce had gone, knowing I was going to have to speak with him eventually. I was still a little uncomfortable with the way we had left things about the whole dating situation, but it wasn't that which warranted a talk. The real reason was not because I was worried he was going to spread strange rumours about us. It was because of his comment about monsters. I had thought about it all night, once I had gotten over the fact that he had assumed we were dating, and the more I analyzed his words the more speculative I became. Why had he mentioned monsters like that? Had he seen one? Did he know they existed?

If there was even a remote possibility, I had decided that it was irresponsible to casually brush his comment off as I had. If Bryce had in fact seen a monster, if he was in danger in any way, I didn't want to hear about his death on the news days or weeks later knowing that I could have prevented it. I was already dealing with enough guilt as it was. I didn't need another death on my conscience.

I found him in the library after first period, reading a volume of 'Lord of the Rings'. I pulled out the chair beside him and sat down, taking out some textbook I had never glanced at to make it look like I was here to read in the silence. Inside the book was a Playboy magazine I had stuffed in there before school, but that didn't matter. I wasn't going to open the thing.

"Hey," I greeted, and it took a moment for him to look up and acknowledge me, as if he was finishing a sentence or mentally pulling himself away from the story he was reading.

"Hi," he said back before returning his gaze to the book. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to make sure we were cool," I lied, though I supposed double checking didn't hurt. "I mean, we're clear on things, right?"

"Yeah, we're cool." I could tell he was half absorbed in the book, his words sounding distant.

I waited a few moments for him to say more, but he remained silent. "You reading about monsters or something?" I asked, because I didn't really know how else to bring it up. I had never been very delicate when breaking the big news to people in the past. It was a skill probably more suited to Sam. He had always been the one with the people-skills, not me. The kid could probably tell someone they had cancer and only had three months left to live and they would come out of the conversation thinking life wasn't so bad.

Bryce didn't answer. I couldn't tell if he was ignoring me, maybe still upset from my rejection, or if he was just too focused on reading and not a great multitasker. The silence in the library began to grow stifling and I suddenly lost my nerve to ask him about his strange comment. I told myself it was probably nothing. He couldn't possibly know the truth. If he had seen a real monster he wouldn't be in this dusty library right now, reading fantasy on his spare time, or agreeing to go out with whoever asked him to. He was just the same as all of the others, his head full of fiction because his real life was mundane, his biggest fear being cornered by an ugly girl at the front gates of the school on Monday morning.

I cursed myself for having wasted my time. Then I slipped my textbook into my backpack and got up silently. He didn't seem to notice when I left.

**12:30 PM**

I had decided to eat lunch outside on the bleachers because I didn't want to listen to Katie today. Not many people were out here on account that it was slightly raining. I had my hood pulled over my head, enjoying the silence as I bit into the peanut butter and jelly sandwich I had quickly made this morning. I didn't like Chicken Tuesdays anymore than I enjoyed Monday Surprise. I had heard rumours that a student had found a feather still attached to her chicken last year and I didn't want to take any chances.

I suddenly heard my name being called and looked around the garden, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from. Aside from a group of stoners huddled in the far corner, there was no one around.

"Dean!" The voice yelled louder. I realized it was coming from behind me just as a pebble missed my head by a few inches and bounced off the bleacher's first two benches. I stood up and looked over the brick wall. Below me, standing on the sidewalk, was Sam.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I asked my brother.

"Meet me at the east gate."

Then he was heading down the street and I had no choice but to obey. But when I made it to our destination someone else greeted me.

"Hey."

I swung my head to the left, following the sudden voice, and noticed Bryce crouching by the side gate. He was sitting on his haunches, his back leaning against the bricks behind him, his fingers twiddling with a brown leaf as his hands rested on his knees.

I opened my mouth to reply, to ask him what he was doing here instead of enjoying lunch inside, when I heard Sam approaching. I swivelled my head to the right and saw the kid bounding down the sidewalk. His backpack must have weighed a ton, because he seemed to be struggling with it as he ran. One of the straps had torn a few months ago and now he had to lug his books around on one shoulder.

"Dean!" he called again, reaching a hand up to wave above his head. I watched him with anxious eyes as he approached, wondering what could possibly have been so important that he had skipped school to tell me. As he finally reached the side gate he bent over and placed his hands on his knees, regaining his breath. I reached over and took the bag from him, worrying he was going to break his shoulder if he continued to insist on dragging the whole library with him wherever he went.

"Jesus, Sam," I grunted as I lowered it to the ground. "What do you have in here? A bag of cement?" My brother didn't seem to hear me. He looked up with wide, bright eyes, his cheeks flushed from running.

"Did you forget your phone?" he asked me, already having recovered his breath. "Dad called me. He said he's been trying to get in contact with you."

I cursed, reaching into my pocket and pulling out my cell. The battery was dead. "I forgot to charge it last night," I mumbled. It was the first time I had forgotten.

"Well, dad wants you back at the motel by two thirty today. He said he needs your help. You're going to have to-" He seemed to notice something, his face showing uncertainty as he glanced around me.

I had forgotten Bryce was there myself, but I didn't look behind me as I pushed Sam up the street a ways and out of earshot. "What did dad say?" I prodded.

"He just said he needed your help. Nothing more."

I wondered what help he needed. Was my dad finally giving me another chance? Was he going to ask me to attend his latest hunt with him? I had never hunted a Succubus before. The thought made me both excited and anxious at the same time. There was nothing more I wanted than to gain my father's trust back, but my gut involuntarily twisted inside of me as I thought about returning to the hunt.

"Two thirty?" I confirmed, swallowing. Sam nodded his head and then I was handing him his backpack again. "I got the message. Now get your ass back to school before you miss something important."

Sam beamed. "I'm on lunch break right now."

"So instead of eating you came here to give me dad's message?"

He shrugged, though it was more of a one-shouldered movement with his school bag in place again. "It was important."

"Take this and eat it on your way back." I handed him the second half of my sandwich. "And tell dad I got his message. I'll be there by two thirty."

"Got it."

As Sam left I turned around, prepared to go back into the school. I was beginning to feel the cold and I hoped it stopped raining soon. I didn't want Sam to get back to class drenched.

Bryce got to his feet as I approached the east gate, readjusting the straps on his shoulders. "Is that your brother?" he asked, gesturing to Sam as the boy trundled up the hill.

"Yeah, my kid brother." I made a mental note to buy Sam a new backpack as I watched him go.

"You two don't seem very alike."

"We aren't," I stated as Sam disappeared around the corner. "What are you doing out here anyway? It's raining."

"Better getting wet out here than dodging questions in there."

"Dodging questions?"

He sighed. "All the girls are asking me who I'm dating this week. I don't lie, remember?."

I felt my irritation level spike. "You better not be telling them you're dating me or I swear to god-"

He held his hands up in front of him as if to stop my threat. "I'm not. Don't worry. Besides, you think anyone would believe me? Katie Lancaster would have my head on a spike if she thought I was defacing your name in anyway, because that would mean her name would get dirtied as well."

I frowned at him. "Look, I've got no problem if you're gay. Dating you wouldn't be... a defacement. It's just not who I am."

"I've got it."

Did he though? I was a lot of things, but homophobic was not one. I didn't want this guy thinking I was afraid of gay rights or something. How could I be when there were _real_ monsters out there, not normal, ordinary people who were segregated and demonized for the petty fact that they were attracted to members of the same sex.

"Why do you go out with all those girls then?" I couldn't help but ask. I was curious. It was one thing to be gay and keep it a secret by not yelling it in public, but to date a different girl every week? That was a little overkill.

"I'm not gay," he said. "I told you before, appearance doesn't matter to me. That's all."

I wasn't buying it. "I don't know, man. Settling for an ugly chick is a little different than settling for a dude."

"You don't understand." He looked irritated, a crease forming between his eyes. It was about the most emotion I had seen displayed on his face since I had met the guy. "It doesn't matter who I date, okay? I don't sleep with anyone. I rarely ever kiss them. It's not about that."

I was confused. The lunch bell rang and I looked at the side entrance of the school, but then returned my gaze to Bryce. "Then what's it about?" I didn't know why I was so adamant about understanding his motives. I should have stopped this conversation eons ago, but I supposed it was proving to be a good distraction. I hadn't even thought about my father's request for help, or the possibility of going on another hunt since-

"They're just distractions."

That was not what I had expected him to say, and I recoiled, his reasoning similar to my own. "What is that supposed to mean? Distractions from what?"

He wrapped his arms around himself, as if the rain and the lack of sun was finally making him cold. "Nothing, all right? Forget I ever said we were dating. Forget we ever even met yesterday. I'll pretend I don't know you and you can do the same."

Then he was walking back through the gate. He didn't wait for me to follow him and that was fine. We weren't friends. We _definitely_ weren't more than friends. I was glad I had straightened that out. Things could go back to normal. I never thought that would be a relief, always having considered normal boring, but that was the exact emotion I felt as I entered the school and was hit with a blast of heated air.

My relief was short-lived, however, because suddenly I was filled with anxiety. What did my dad have to speak to me about? Was he finally going to address what had happened? Was he finally going to make me relive the event verbally? It was all I could think about the rest of the day. Even when Katie got angry at me for standing her up during lunch I was too preoccupied by my worries to apologize. I even rejected her hand job in Spanish class.

**2:30 PM**

John was packing the last few of his knives into a duffel bag when I got back to the motel room. "I thought you were leaving at noon," was the first thing I said to him. I assumed he would explain why he was still here but instead he threw another duffel bag at me.

"Pack Sam's clothes in there," he ordered me.

I was confused. "Are we leaving?"

He didn't answer me, and so I began to stuff a few of Sam's shirts into the grey bag as I waited for the man to reply. I knew better than to force an answer from him.

"You're going to stay here and you're going to go to school," he finally said after a few minutes. I was zipping up Sam's bag, having packed his last few articles of clothing. "I got a call from one of your teachers today. He said one of your assignments is late."

"It's just a stupid essay," I explained. "He assigned it on my first day. I'll tell him I'm still trying to adjust to the new school and I'm sure he'll give me an extension."

John grunted but didn't push the topic any further. I stood as I watched him zip up his own duffel bag, still waiting for an explanation. Still wondering whether it would be good or bad news. Then, there it was.

"I'm bringing Sam with me."

I stared at him for a moment, trying to process his words. "You're bringing Sam?" I repeated like an idiot.

My dad nodded his head and I tried to come up with a reason why Sam was needed on the hunt. Before I could ask, my dad was already answering. "Sam needs to start learning the family business. He needs to know how to protect himself and how to take on a Supernatural being. They don't teach that stuff in the books he reads."

I tried to imagine Sam on a hunt, carrying around a sawed-off shotgun that stood more than half the length of him. I knew he could fire one no problem, that he had on more than one occasion during shooting practice, but Sam had never killed anything before. He had never aimed his gun at a living, breathing thing, whether evil or not. He had never been put into a situation where innocent lives were at risk and it was his responsibility to ensure the end results were in their favour.

"You want him to help you hunt a Succubus?" I didn't fear for the kid's physical safety, not with my dad around. But what if the hunt caused damage that Sam could not be protected from? The thought filled me with panic. I didn't want my brother to be subject to the same torment I felt. I didn't want him to know what it was like to watch someone die in front of you knowing you could have stopped the event from happening.

"Sammy's just a kid," I said, trying hard not to raise my voice. "I was older when you took me on my first hunt. He's not ready to-"

"He's going to have to learn someday, Dean. The earlier he starts learning what's really out there, the better."

I could feel the panic rising inside of me. "If it's just another set of hands you need on this hunt, _I_ can help you, dad. It doesn't have to be Sam."

"It can't be you, Dean. Sam will be fine."

"Dad, I-"

"Just do as I've told you." His voice had changed. It had gained that cold, hard edge I was all too familiar with. It meant that he was done with the conversation and the smartest thing I could do was shut up and accept it.

I lowered my head, praying to god he wouldn't see the anxiety I knew was displayed on my face. "Yes sir," I answered. I battled the dread that was threatening to consume me. I tried not to picture a broken Sam, his eyes soulless and his face devoid of anything that had once made him my little brother. I was always encouraging him to spend his time training instead of reading books, but the truth was I had been secretly glad that Sam didn't show much interest in hunting the supernatural. It meant he was easier to protect.

That was my job, wasn't it? To protect. If I couldn't even shield my little brother, what hope did I have in saving anyone else?

"I'm going to pick him up at school and leave straight away. We won't be back for a couple of days." John grabbed Sam's bag from my hand and slung it over his shoulder with his own duffel full of knives. On his way out the door he said, "And stop with the burgers for dinner. You've got to start eating healthier."

**7:15 PM**

I took my dad's advice about my eating habits. The local burger joint wasn't that great, anyway. The portions were too small and the food was always cold by the time I got back to the motel. Instead I decided to scour a nearby convenience store, wondering if I could find something quick and edible for dinner. For once I didn't have to consider Sam's taste, though that thought didn't exactly fill me with joy.

I didn't even realize some of my classmates were in the store until I made my way to the front to pay. I way carrying a box of cereal in one hand and a jug of milk in the other when I saw three kids I recognized from the hallways of Kimberley Trenton high school. I knew one of them was from my year, a redhead who I had seen knock a few geeks against lockers. He was accompanied by two others, a large kid who looked like he was a miniature giant, and a blonde in a polo shirt with a face that was too long.

They were surrounding someone who was waiting in line, and I cursed my luck as I realized who it was. Bryce Caldwell. I recognized him even though his back was turned to me. He was still carrying his backpack, and it _still_ had not been cleaned.

"Yeah, what the fuck is wrong with you, huh?" the big guy asked, giving Bryce a little shove. "You didn't find anyone to date this week? Have the girls finally realized you're a freak?" As the three friends laughed I figured they were in the middle of bullying Bryce. I didn't want to get involved and considered leaving, but instead I stood there and listened.

"Hey Andrew," the redhead called to the blonde. "Didn't your girlfriend date this loser?"

"That was last year, man." Andrew seemed uncomfortable with the topic of conversation, looking irritated at his friend for bringing it up.

"Come on. What, you don't talk?" The big guy shoved Bryce again, this time harder. Bryce had to stumble a little to keep his footing, but he righted himself with no comment, continuing to wait patiently in line as if there weren't three assholes harassing him.

"He probably doesn't understand us," Redhead offered, flicking Bryce's ear. "He's half Chinese, isn't he?"

"He grew up here, you dumbass," Andrew replied. "He can understand us just fine."

"So what, he's just _ignoring_ us then?" Redhead was getting a little angry. He flicked Bryce's ear again. "He won't even defend himself. Aren't the Chinese supposed to be good at martial arts and shit?"

Big Guy let out a guffaw. "What's he going to do to us? Look at how scrawny he is."

"I wouldn't underestimate him." Redhead smiled wickedly. "He's already killed one person, hasn't he?"

Bryce reacted with such speed I barely had time to process that he had moved before he was on top of Redhead, pummelling him with his fists as the guy cowered on the ground. It seemed Big Guy and Andrew were just as shocked, because it took a few seconds before they attempted to pull him off of their friend, throwing him backwards where he crashed into a display of cream-filled eggs. A number of the chocolates went scattering across the tiled floor, and the cashier began shouting for everyone to get out as two other customers hastily exited the store.

The boys didn't seem to hear the middle-aged woman, however, because as Bryce tried to stand up Big Guy was stomping towards him. He grabbed Bryce by the collar and heaved him upwards, pushing him back until he slammed against the front counter. The cashier screamed and moved back, colliding with the wall of cigarettes behind her and causing a few packs to tumble to the ground. Big Guy slammed a fist into Bryce's stomach, causing him to double up and gasp for air. Meanwhile, Andrew had already helped his friend up, who was now sporting a messy, gory nose that matched his hair colour. There was a ferocious snarl on his face and I watched him crush a number of chocolate eggs beneath his feet as he made his way towards his friend and Bryce.

In most circumstances I would have simply watched, not really the type who liked to join in brawls that weren't mine, but it always pissed me off when a fight became unfair. Not only was Bryce facing three guys by himself, but he was also a lot scrawnier than them. Even if the cashier had already called the cops, Bryce was still probably going to get the shit kicked out of him before they arrived.

"You fucking dickshit!" Redhead screamed as he shoved Big Guy out of the way and took a swing at Bryce. The kid managed to avoid the fist, twisting his head to the side now that he was given more freedom. That only seemed to make Redhead angrier, and this time he managed to press a forearm against Bryce's neck, pinning him against the top of the counter. He drew back a fist, but just as he was about to let it come crashing down on Bryce's face, I decided to step in.

I had picked up one of the chocolate eggs from the floor and I tossed it at Redhead, hitting him in the back of the head. It was enough to distract him from his main goal, and he cranked his head around sharply to stare at me. I waved before calling out, "Mind making this a fair fight?"

The three guys looked confused for a moment, but then Redhead was spitting a wad of blood on the floor before growling, "Get out of here, shitface. This isn't your fight, and Katie isn't here for you to hide behind."

I smirked at his comment. "True." I took a casual step forward, my hands clenched into fists beside me. "Katie isn't here to hide behind, but I think I'll take my chances with you three."

Redhead glanced at his large friend. "Take care of this asshole, would you?"

Big Guy stepped forward but then seemed to hesitate as I pierced him with a glare. I already knew he would rely on his girth to knock me down. I would have to come in low and hit him hard. That was the only way I would be able to get him off of his feet and out of the fight for at least the beginning. It would be easy to knock Andrew out in a punch or two. He obviously had no fighting ability. I would have to recover from the tackle quickly though, and then there was Redhead. I couldn't decide whether he would split or stay after his friends were taken out of the equation. Was he a runner or a fighter?

"I've called the cops!" the cashier yelled from a hallway at the side of the store, her head poking out of the narrow entrance. "You kids better get out of my store before they get here."

I blinked once at the three boys, Bryce still struggling against Redhead's arm, his face turning a shade of purple. Big Guy was hesitating even more now, and as he glanced back at Redhead I knew the fight wasn't going to happen. It would have to be saved for another day.

Redhead finally released Bryce, stepping back as he pointed a finger at the guy. "You so much as look me in the eyes at school and you're dead," he spat. "I'll send you to hell myself." Redhead then turned his finger to me. "And you. You better watch your back, asshole."

As they left, I wondered if a threat like that had actually made anyone fearful before, but my musings were quickly interrupted by the cashier who was continuing to yell bloody murder from her hallway. I quickly grabbed Bryce, who was doubled over coughing by the counter, and pulled him out of the store and down the street a few blocks. By the time we had put a safe distance between us and the store, he had become quiet, though his voice was raw when he spoke.

"Thanks," he said.

"You get in fights like that often?" I asked him, though I didn't expect an answer. I grabbed his wrist and turned his palm to the floor so that I could get a good view of his knuckles in the light of a streetlamp above us. He let out a huff of irritation but he didn't try to pull away. His knuckles were red and beginning to bruise, a few cuts standing out where the skin had split. I noticed his thumb looked a little swollen, and when I went to touch it he quickly drew back his hand, hissing in pain.

I smirked. "You obviously don't fight much," I remarked. "Don't even know how to deliver a hit properly. When making a fist, make sure your thumb is on the outside." I reached for his other hand and positioned his fingers into a proper fist. "Like this," I told him. "That way you won't injure yourself as badly. No broken digits."

I looked up to see if he had gotten the message, if he was paying attention to my instructions, but the force of his gaze surprised me. He was looking at me with a mixture of emotions, the most clear being confusion, but obviously not caused by my words. He seemed to be more puzzled about why I was teaching him in the first place.

Looking away, I let his hand go and it dropped back to his side. "Anyway, you should get your thumb checked out. Just looks like a bad sprain, but you never know."

He said nothing in reply but just continued to stare. I looked around, feeling a little uncomfortable. "Yeah, so don't expect me to help out next time. You were lucky I live around here." Still, no response. "I'll be going then," I said, taking a step back.

"You wanna go get something to eat?" he asked me. It was my turn to have no words. "Have you eaten dinner yet?" he prodded further.

I shook my head. "No. I was kind of buying it when your little fight interrupted me and got us kicked out of the store."

"You were buying dinner at a convenience store?"

"What's wrong with that?"

He smiled, and for once it was a genuine one. I could hardly believe it. This guy had just gotten the crap kicked out of him and _now_ he was deciding to smile? "Nothing's wrong with that," he replied. "But I know someplace better."

I frowned. I hadn't exactly been ecstatic about the Lucky Charms I had decided to eat, and returning to an empty motel room with an empty stomach or cold hamburgers wasn't very appealing either. "What did you have in mind?"

**8:33 PM**

I had never been in a restaurant like this before. Bryce had taken me to some foreign Asian place, and although the pictures of dishes plastered all over the front window didn't look all too bad, I wasn't sure what I was getting myself into.

The place was dead inside, though Bryce assured me that it was only because it was late on a Tuesday night. There was a young Asian girl standing by the door when we entered, her black hair in pigtails that stuck out from the sides of her head. "Oppa!" she greeted excitedly. As we sat down at a booth she began to say something in another language, her words too quick for me to even hope to hear clearly. Bryce looked over the table at me with a slight smile before returning his attention to her.

He motioned for her to come closer and she leaned over. As he whispered something in her ear I watched as her eyes grew wide. She stepped back, glancing from me to Bryce, before she ran away shrieking and giggling. Bryce chuckled and I looked at him suspiciously. "What the fuck just happened?" I asked, not too thrilled that I had been unable to understand their conversation.

"She was just curious about you. She asked me who you are."

I narrowed my eyes. "And what exactly did you tell her?"

He shrugged innocently. "Just that you were the new kid at my school."

I didn't believe him for a second, but I couldn't figure out what had made the girl go screaming like she had just gotten a pony for Christmas. I decided to change the topic, feeling uncomfortable. "She called you 'oppa' when we first came in," I mentioned. "What's that mean?"

"It means 'brother' in Korean. Just a term girls call older guys they're close to."

"So that's what this all is," I said as I looked around the place. We had entered a small restaurant with wooden tables and booths. The writing on the walls and on the menu were all in some strange alphabet I couldn't recognize. It consisted of a number of lines and circles. I figured it was Korean. If Sam had been here he probably would have already known that.

"Yeah, I come here often," Bryce admitted. "My mother was Korean."

_Was._ I looked at him, frowning, noting that we had both lost our mothers. "Did she introduce you to this place?"

"No, I found it on my own a few years back. Been a regular ever since." He opened his mouth to say more but then seemed to hesitate. "How about we order? You hungry?"

I picked up a menu and looked at it quizzically. "Maybe if I could read this alien script."

I heard Bryce laugh and it stilled my search for a moment. It was the first time I had heard the guy laugh like that, and the sound was so unexpected that it threw me off for a moment. I quickly recollected myself and tossed the menu back on the table. "I'll just have what you're having," I announced.

"You sure?" he asked. "Food here can be pretty spicy."

I looked at him like he had just insulted me, taking his words as a challenge. "Bring it on."

An hour later I was draining my cup of water for the fifth time, my tongue and mouth on fire. I didn't know what kind of secret ingredient Koreans had, but this stuff was fucking _hot_. Bryce refused to stop laughing as I struggled to use the chopsticks he had presented to me at the beginning of our meal. I had given up using them the proper way a long time ago, choosing to spear pieces of food with the wooden sticks instead.

I stabbed a long tube-like piece of food – something called duk bokki, according to Bryce – with a chopstick, making sure to keep the food in place as I guided it to my mouth. However, before I could swallow it the food slid from the utensil and fell onto my lap.

Bryce broke out into a fit of laughter across from me and I scowled at him. "Give me a break, it's my first time," I argued, annoyed that I had been refused a fork or spoon to use. Hell, even a knife would have been better. I watched as Bryce picked up one of the duk bokki with the two sticks, expertly taking a bite of one side before grinning at me.

I rolled my eyes, plucking the fallen food from my lap and shoving it into my mouth with my fingers. "Don't worry," Bryce said. "It takes practice. You'll get used to it."

I mumbled a curse as I used a napkin to angrily wipe at the red sauce that now covered my jeans. And suddenly I was recalling the blood that had splattered my clothes during that night. My movements stopped, my body growing rigid again.

_Not now. Not here._

I closed my eyes, hoping to gain control of the remorse that was quickly flooding me. "Are you all right?" I heard Bryce ask. I refused to look across the table at him. Instead, I forced myself to open my eyes and continue wiping the sauce from my pants, praying this was not the beginning of another attack.

"Yeah," I replied, my voice only slightly shaky. "But do they sell alcohol here? I could use a drink."


	3. Wednesday

**12:01 AM**

The liquid looked like tequila, but when I put the rim of the cup to my lips and tossed the drink to the back of my throat, it wasn't as strong as I expected it to be. Nevertheless, it burnt my esophagus on the way down. I fought the urge to cough as I wiped the back of my hand across my mouth.

"You sure you don't want a drink?" I asked Bryce.

Bryce shook his head from across the table. "Where exactly did you get a fake ID?" he enquired.

I smirked at him. "Wouldn't you like to know."

"Not really."

"Not a drinker?"

He shrugged. "Never tried the stuff."

"Seriously?" I took a look around the restaurant. We were still the only ones in here, and I couldn't help but wonder how this place stayed afloat with the lack of customers. Nevertheless, the emptiness would work to our advantage tonight. Our young waitress was nowhere to be seen, so I poured another drink and slid it across the table towards Bryce.

His eyes went wide as he stopped the cup with his hand. "I can't have this!" he exclaimed quietly. "I'm not old enough. And I don't have a fake ID like you. Even if I did, the owners know I'm in high school." He glanced behind him. "We could get in trouble."

"Says the guy who scales school walls every Monday morning."

'Not _every_ Monday morning," he countered. "Only some."

"Whatever. Stop being such a bitch and just drink it."

He looked down at the alcohol as if it was a hissing snake. But then he took the cup and held it to his lips, quickly tossing the stuff in his mouth. I cringed, knowing he was going to regret the one shot, and only a moment later he began to hack his lungs out. I couldn't help but burst into laughter as he tried to muffle his coughing fit, his eyes tearing up as he looked around again, obviously still scared of getting caught.

I poured him another drink as I told him, "I was worried you weren't going to do it. Here, another one."

He accepted the second serving without protest, though this time he sipped it. His cheeks were already flushed as he looked across the table at me, and the colour made the red tinge in his eyes stand out. I guessed I could understand why there was a lineup of girls waiting to go out with him.

He grinned again as he finished the cup, leaning back in the booth. "Alcohol is disgusting," he said, and we burst out laughing.

By two A.M. we were both pretty drunk, Bryce's face flushed a bright pink now and my posture worse than usual. "Fuck off," I scoffed. "Like you met James Hetfield in person. You think I'd actually believe that?"

"It's the truth," Bryce countered, his eyes lighting up. "I'm not lying."

"Right, because you never lie." I shook my head at the table top, but I couldn't help but be amused. This night had turned out better than I had expected, back when all I had to look forward to was milk and cereal for dinner and an empty motel room for company. I would never consider admitting that to Bryce, however. To top it all off, the alcohol was making it increasingly easier to not think about things I didn't want to, like Sam and my dad. That woman...

I felt the edge of a shadow begin to creep upon my good mood. When I looked back up, Bryce wasn't smiling anymore. He was staring at the soju cup, which he was abstractedly spinning and tilting on the table's surface. t was as if he had picked up on my bad mood, maybe recalling things he didn't want to think about either.

"You gonna tell me what all that was about back there?" I asked, bringing up the topic before I could stop myself. If I was being honest with myself, which alcohol tended to encourage, I was a bit curious as to why Bryce had been targeted by his classmates.

Bryce continued to stare at the counter as he immediately replied, "No."

"Why not?" I enquired, feeling a little angry at the guy's blunt evasiveness.

He turned his eyes on me, pausing for a moment before saying, "Because then I _would_ be a liar."

I was going to press further, but then I decided to let the topic be dropped, partially because I knew I shouldn't care. I had nothing to do with the guy.

A stretch of silence grew between us until Bryce said quietly, "My birth mom was Korean." He looked around the restaurant, peering at the writing scrawled on the wall. "I grew up with adoptive parents. I never knew my father, and my mom died giving birth to me."

Was this his explanation? "I'm sorry to hear that," I said, not really sure what else I could offer. I wondered if Redhead's comment, about Bryce having killed someone before, was a reference to the kid's mother. If it was, the guy was crueler than I had first thought. It was one thing to bully someone because you were a dumb prick, but to take a dig like that? It made me wish that I had gotten the chance to kick the guy's ass after all.

"Thanks," Bryce said. Then after a bit of hesitation he added, "I'm really glad you decided to go out with me tonight."

"Wait a second," I said, digesting the words through my alcoholic haze and realizing what they might mean. "We aren't- I mean, you don't think this is a…" I couldn't finish the question.

Bryce blinked at me. "Of course it is."

I gaped at the guy. I couldn't help it. "This isn't a date," I practically shouted. Then I remembered we were in a public place and lowered my voice, glowering at Bryce instead. "We're just hanging out. As _classmates_."

The guy shrugged, smiling mischievously. "Call it what you must."

I let out a huff of disbelief. "Wow, really? You tricked me into this, didn't you? That whole thing in the convenience store was probably just a scam. You just wanted-" I saw the smile disappear from Bryce's face and immediately realized my mistake. "Sorry," I apologized as I looked down at the tabletop again.

"No, it's okay," Bryce said after a while. "I was just teasing you about the dating thing, but I really do appreciate you hanging out with me. We should do it again sometime."

I nodded, feeling awkward now. "Yeah, that wouldn't be too bad."

"And thanks for stepping in back at the store. Brad isn't usually that big of an asshole."

I made the leap that Brad was the redhead. "Don't worry about it. I would have stepped in for anyone. I don't like being a witness to unfair fights."

He smiled a little. "Not many would have done the same."

I grunted in response. I was surprised when our waitress came back and told us that the meal was on the house. Bryce explained that he knew the owners personally, and I was left to wonder again how the restaurant made a profit. I decided it was probably a front for the Korean mafia or something, if such a thing existed.

"Do you live far?" Bryce asked once we were outside again.

It had grown colder, and I pulled my jacket tighter around me as I answered, "Just up the street."

"Well, I live that way." He pointed in the opposite direction. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

I waved a hand in farewell and began walking up the road towards the motel. I was almost out of view of the restaurant when I glanced over my shoulder. Bryce was sitting on the curb beneath one of the streetlamps, his elbows resting on his knees.

I hesitated for a moment, knowing I was probably going to regret my decision, but then walked slowly back down the road. He didn't hear me approach, for he jumped when I said, "You too drunk to walk or something?"

He stared at me for a second before replying, "I don't... I don't really want to go home right now."

I knew the feeling. I wasn't exactly ecstatic to get back to my empty motel room either. I had been planning to have a television marathon in order to stop myself from sleeping, but now that I thought about it…

"Hey… What's your stance on playing hooky tomorrow?"

Bryce looked puzzled. "Hooky?"

"You _do_ know what hooky is, don't you?" I asked, skeptical. Bryce shook his head and I almost laughed. "It means skipping school, which I doubt you've ever done. Am I right?" The guy looked away, slightly irritated, and this time I did chuckle. "You don't want to go home and I don't exactly feel like sleeping tonight, so how about we hang out until the morning?"

He looked a little taken aback, then a little wary, like he thought I was playing some kind of prank on him. But then his guard seemed to crumble as he nodded his head. "Yeah, that would be cool."

It didn't take us long to reach the motel, and to Bryce's credit he didn't comment on the fact that I was leading him into the dive until we stopped in front of my room. "You live in a motel? " His voice was full of doubt. "Or did you plan this all along just to take advantage of me?"

"You wish." I shoved him with a fake scowl on my face. "It's only temporary."

He looked like he was about to comment further, but then he shrugged too. "I guess it's pretty cool. I mean, you can get room service whenever you want."

"This place doesn't exactly have room service," I said as I took out the key and unlocked the door, glad he hadn't made a bigger deal about my living conditions. "We're lucky there's a minifridge."

I was about to turn the knob and push when a thought occurred to me. I glanced at Bryce and then said, "Give me a minute to clean up, would you? It's pretty messy in there."

He shrugged. "Sure, if you want. Though I'm not gonna judge or anything."

I could care less whether the room was cluttered or not, but I told him I'd only take a moment before I slipped into the room and flicked on the light switch. Taking my coat off and hanging it on a hook, I looked around. Between the beds, on the night table, was a glock. I quickly walked over to it and grabbed it, stuffing it into a dresser drawer beneath some of my clothes. Then came the flask labelled 'holy water' sitting atop the minifridge. Several newspaper articles Sam had collected that had looked suspicious and could lead to cases. The overflowing first aid kit sitting on the bathroom counter. A sawed off shotgun leaning against the wall in the corner next to the TV.

When I was satisfied that the room looked at least semi-normal, I opened the door and welcomed Bryce in. "Welcome to my humble abode," I said, sweeping a hand in an arc before me. "Make yourself at home.

"It's not half bad." Bryce flung himself on one of the beds, bouncing as he hit the mattress. "Now, what's on TV?"

We spent a few hours watching SNL and The Simpsons reruns, then made fun of a few late night infomercials before I noticed Bryce's eyelids drooping. I told him I needed to take a shower. By the time I was done Bryce was already sleeping. He had curled up into a ball on the bed, still in his jeans and top. I climbed into the other bed, realizing it was six in the morning. I wondered how long I would have to lie here before Bryce woke up again, fighting exhaustion. I was not looking forward to it.

**1:27 PM**

I didn't know if it was the alcohol that had kept the nightmares at bay, but when I opened my eyes and realized I had been asleep for seven hours, I could hardly believe it. I didn't even remember falling asleep. The TV was still on, so I assumed I had dozed off while watching it. The last thing I remembered was a bad infomercial advertising spray-on-hair for balding men.

I sat up in bed, my lips dry and my head aching, but my eyes not raw from exhaustion and my head not fuzzy from sleeplessness. I had a bit of a hangover, but even so I felt fantastic compared to the last few days. Or make that weeks.

I glanced to my right, recalling that Bryce had slept over. The other bed was empty, and for a moment I thought he had left, perhaps too scared to play hooky after all. But then I heard the click of a lock and the kid was strolling out of the bathroom, his hair damp and his clothes wrinkled. He looked like shit, and he groaned as he went back to his bed and sat on the edge.

"Alcohol is horrible. Why do people drink it if it makes them feel this way afterwards?"

I chuckled, recalling the first hangover I had ever had, back when I was twelve. John had discovered me drunk out of my mind one night, having stolen one of his scotch bottles, and had shown me no mercy the next morning when I thought my head was going to split open and my intestines were going to be puked up. He had told me it was my fault for getting drunk, and that I had to accept the consequences.

"Breakfast?" I heard myself ask. "It'll help. Trust me."

Bryce crawled back onto his pillow. "The idea of food makes me feel nauseous."

I shuffled off the bed, grabbing a pair of jeans and putting them on. Then I threw my own pillow at Bryce, causing him to groan again. "Come on, get up. Playing hooky isn't fun if you spend it all sleeping."

Our breakfast consisted of bacon, eggs, and toast at a shabby diner a few blocks away. It wasn't the best I had ever had, but it certainly wasn't the worse. I insisted on paying, mainly because I knew Bryce was a typical, broke teenager who didn't have a budding set of poker skills to fuel his piggy bank.

We decided to go watch a movie after that, heading up to the waterfront and agreeing on "Bulletproof". Wasn't one of my favourite Adam Sandler movies, but it wasn't a bad way to spend the afternoon. Definitely beat trying to stay awake in English class.

As we were exiting the theatre, my hand still shovelling popcorn into my mouth, I noticed that Bryce had stopped walking. I glanced at what he was staring at and saw that he had his sights set on an arcade game. It was one of those rip-off ones, with the claw that looked like it could barely handle the weight of a tissue, let alone a stuffed animal. Even so, people continued to insert their money in it in the hopes that they would finally win, and I was no different.

I strolled over to the game, taking a dollar bill out of my wallet. "Bet I can get that lobster in the corner," I said, nodding at the stuffed animal.

Bryce had come up beside me, and now he pointed to the middle of the heap. "No, get that one."

"The purple elephant?" I asked him, wondering why he had picked that one. I had only chosen the lobster because it looked like it was in an easy position and was probably the manliest option available. But I never ran from a challenge, and that purple elephant had my full attention now.

"You're probably just wasting your money, you know."

"Fuck you," I laughed. "Watch this."

I slid the bill into the slot and the machine came to life, colourful lights flashing and a campy circus tune emanating from hidden speakers. The claw shook and then began to rise, swinging to the right as I manoeuvred the hand-held controls. It stalled for a moment above the purple elephant and I took the time to send a cocky smirk to Bryce. The claw dropped, slowly clamping around the stuffed animal. As it began to rise, the elephant clutched in its grip, I was already celebrating my victory, hooting at no one in particular. Bryce grinned from beside me as we watched the elephant float through the air.

However, as the claw stopped above the deposit box and released the prize, the elephant's trunk got caught on the edge of the box and became stuck. For a moment neither of us said anything, too shocked to speak as the machine shut down and the space became dark and quiet again. "Wow, Dean," Bryce said, staring at the sad elephant. "You're really good at this."

I looked over at him and was met with a straight face. However, it didn't hold long and soon Bryce was erupting into laughter. I went to grab him, to put him in a headlock for laughing at my misfortune, but he broke free and ran out of the theatre and into the misty rain that had started up, still laughing. I chased him and we didn't seem to care that our clothes were becoming soaked as we ran down the street and across the boardwalk, hollering and hooting and laughing.

We eventually stopped, out of breath but still grinning, and came to rest on the boardwalk's edge. We looked out at the ocean, the sky grey and miserable, the sand soggy and wet, the waves foamy and angry, but the sight still beautiful.

"What would you have done with a purple elephant anyway?" I asked, my breathing almost regular again.

"Would have given it to my sister," Bryce answered.

"You have a sister?" I was surprised. Bryce had never mentioned her before. Then again, how long had I known the guy for?

"Yeah," the guy smiled. "She would have loved a purple elephant."

I looked out at the sea, sighing. "Well, tell your sister she'll still be getting one. That game isn't going anywhere soon."

Bryce looked at me. "Seriously?"

I was almost offended as I replied, "Of course. What, you think I'm gonna let some campy-ass machine like that beat me? You obviously don't know me."

He smiled slightly as he held my gaze. "No, I don't. But I think I'm starting to."

I was taken aback for a moment, but then I cleared my throat and glanced away. "Yeah, I'll come back here sometime later this week when I have some more change. I'll win it for her then, okay? Tell her that."

"I'm sure she'll be happy to hear it." But his voice had lost its excitement. The kid's face had grown somber and I wondered if he was replaying the other night in his head, the fight in the convenience store.

"People can be real assholes," I told him.

He looked at me strangely. "Are you calling me an asshole?"

I scoffed. "You may be annoying as hell, but I wasn't talking about you. I meant those sons of bitches back in the store yesterday. You shouldn't let them get to you."

Bryce shrugged, looking back out towards the sea. "Sometimes assholes can be right though."

"About it being your fault for killing your mom? Bullshit. You weren't responsible for that."

He frowned. "I know that."

"Then what the fuck is eating at you?"

"Nothing is."

I didn't buy that for a second. I recognized that look on his face. I had seen it in the mirror a dozen times before. I couldn't believe I was about to play this card, but...

"If you're my... If you're a... If you're a boyfriend, aren't you supposed to tell the other everything?"

"The other?"

I scowled. "You know what I fucking mean."

The boy's lips turned upwards in that slow, faint smile of his. "Are you calling me your boyfriend, Dean?"

I groaned as I looked down and ran a hand through my hair. I was obviously uncomfortable, but the son of a bitch seemed to be enjoying it. I heard him chuckle and felt a spike of annoyance. "Just tell me what's going on," I said, lifting my head and scowling to let him know I was being serious. "One moment you're all happy, the next you look like someone just ran over your puppy."

Bryce's smile vanished as he shook his head. "You don't have to do this, you know."

"Do what?" My brow crinkled in confusion.

"Care about me."

I almost took a step back, the verbal blow resembling a physical one. Before I could say anything in response, Bryce was speaking again.

"I know I'm a burden. I know you didn't seriously ask me out that day, and that you're not interested. I'm not disillusioned. So just hang with me once in a while until Sunday night, and then you won't have to talk to me ever again, all right?"

I frowned. "Why wouldn't I talk to you ever again?"

"Because I make you uncomfortable."

"You don't make me uncomfortable," I explained. "Well, you sort of do, but it's all right. I guess I'm just not… I'm just not used to having friends."

He gave me a quizzical look. "What are you talking about? You're popular."

I scoffed. "Being popular and having friends is not the same thing. You think anyone at school knows a single true thing about me? No fucking way. And they don't give a shit, either, unless it involves when and how many times I've had sex with Katie Lancaster."

Bryce contemplated that. "To be honest, I don't know much about you either."

I shrugged. "Well, you know how many times I've had sex with Katie Lancaster, don't you?"

"I've heard a few different numbers, actually. From twelve to two hundred."

I shoved him playfully. "Those numbers are low."

Bryce grinned but then grew serious again as the joke faded. "I'm not used to it either," he said after a span of silence.

"Used to what?"

"Having friends."

We stood there in more silence for a moment, but it wasn't awkward. Our clothes and hair damp, our noses full of the scent of the ocean. For once, I felt like I actually did have a friend.

"Let's get out of here," I finally said, and we began to make our way off the boardwalk, back towards the movie theatre and the bus stop we'd have to wait by to get home. Bryce had stopped looking somber and I figured I'd stop bugging him about what was on his mind. It really wasn't any of my business, even if we were friends.

We were talking about our high school gym teacher's perpetually hard nipples, and how he always wore a skin tight shirt to show them off, when I had my second attack of that week.

It began with a dog. A stupid, mangy mutt that had been tied to a bike rack outside some adult video store. I barely even noticed the goddamn thing until Bryce and I were passing by, but when it began to bark and jump at us I stopped in my tracks. I had not willed my feet to stop, but they froze to the ground like I had walked into wet cement. I couldn't move, and as I whipped my head to stare at the thing I could feel a wave of hot fear rush through me.

The dog continued to bark at me, and suddenly it was three times its size, with glowing eyes and fangs as long as my ring finger, dripping with saliva. A guttural growl rose up from its throat, its lips peeling back even further as it opened its mouth to snap at me.

I lunged back, tripping over something, and fell to my ass on the concrete. As soon as I felt the shock of impact, the Black Dog was reduced to nothing more than a mutt again. But my heart was still crashing around in my ribcage as if the supernatural creature was right in front of me. I tried to get my bearings, my eyes shifting to the left and right, taking in that I was sitting right in the goddamn middle of the sidewalk. Realizing that there was no Black Dog here.

A few passerbys had stopped to stare, and I cursed under my breath as I glanced at the mutt again, wishing it would shut the fuck up.

"Dean?" Bryce was kneeling beside me, concern in his expression. He looked at the dog and then back at me. "You okay?"

I clutched at my shirt, trying to pull it away from my chest, giving me space to breathe. I knew I had to get to my feet, but that damn dog was still barking, and suddenly I could hear the screaming again. She was screaming for help as her body was torn to pieces, attacked by a second Black Dog I hadn't seen, and I was trying to run towards her. I had to get up, but I had been knocked on my ass by the first creature, and it was about to lunge at me. It was going to-

Suddenly I was shoving Bryce away, getting to my feet through some will I somehow possessed. _It's not real_ , I told myself as I walked away from the small crowd that had gathered to watch me freak out. _You killed it. You killed both those Black Dogs. You destroyed them for what they did._

I wasn't aware if Bryce was following me or not, but I didn't care. I just wanted to get away from the barking and the screaming. I wanted to prove to myself that everything was okay, that there was no danger here. Black Dogs were rare outside of Europe. There wouldn't be a third. Not here, not now. I was just imagining it. I was just imagining her screams.

But they sounded so real. When I began to run, they still followed me. It was only after I was soaking wet and out of breath, in some neighbourhood I didn't recognize, that the screams finally left me alone. I had stopped to catch my breath in front of a small park, nothing but a swing set and a slide surrounded my a sandbox and a patch of trees. The place was deserted at the moment, on account of the rain, and I decided to rest my body on a bench.

The sound of running footsteps reached my ears, and as they grew closer I looked up the street. Bryce was running full out, the kid's hair a wet mess and his face flushed from exertion. He slowed down when he spotted me, his chest heaving in and out as he walked the last few meters to where I was sitting.

"How the... hell... do you run... like that?" he asked between breaths. Then he was crashing next to me on the bench. "You in... cross country or something?"

"First in the state," I jested.

Bryce didn't laugh. Instead he looked me up and down with that same look of concern I had seen before. "You were running like you'd seen a ghost."

I couldn't help but chuckle at that, though there was no humour in the reaction. I couldn't possibly tell Bryce that I had seen my fair share of ghosts in the past, and that the last thing I did was run from them. "Not exactly a ghost," I said, realizing that the woman – her death – was in many ways haunting me.

"Was it the dog?" Bryce enquired carefully, like he was afraid I was going to take off running again. "Did you have a bad experience with one before? When you were a kid or something?"

I wiped the rain from my eyes, the Black Dog's fangs still clear in my mind and refusing to leave. "Guess you could say that."

"Maybe you have PTSD."

"What?" I looked at him, trying to focus on his face, the red in his eyes, instead of the black, blood-stained muzzle that was threatening to overtake my thoughts again. "What the hell is that? Some kind of STD or something?"

"Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. You've never heard of it?"

I shook my head, annoyed by this discussion. I didn't have a disorder. I was about to tell him as much when _her_ eyes replaced Bryce's, her mouth moving as if begging me to save her, but only blood spilling from her lips.

I looked down, squeezing my eyes shut, willing the image to go away, but she was still there, hovering at the backs of my lids.

"I'll see yah tomorrow, all right?" I said in a tight voice, not looking up.

"Are you sure you're-"

"I'm _fine_ ," I bit out, because it was one thing to discover you were weak as fuck, but to expose it to another human being? That didn't sit well with me at all.

Bryce didn't say anything for a moment, but then I heard his quiet voice. "Yeah, see you tomorrow." The bench creaked as his weight was lifted from it, and his footsteps began to grow faint. When I could no longer hear them I finally looked up. Bryce had vanished from sight.

I sat in the rain for a little longer, staring at the trees and the sad, rusting playground, but then I rubbed my face and stood up. It took me awhile to find a street I actually recognized, and even longer to search out a store that sold what I was looking for. I purchased a bottle of whiskey with my fake ID, planning to get good and wasted tonight in the hopes that it would grant me a relatively peaceful sleep again. I'd deal with the hangover in the morning.

I stopped three times on my way home to smoke a cigarette.

**9:47 PM**

"That's great, Sammy." I twirled the telephone cord around my finger, watching as it unwound on its own and fell to the floor. I was glad to hear the excitement in my brother's voice, and to have discovered it was because he had spent the entire day in the library with our father, doing research for their case. "Hey, can you put dad on the phone?"

There was the sound of ruffling, as if the phone was being passed. Then came John's deep voice. "Hello?"

"So I heard the hunt's going well," I stated. "You and Sam made some headway on where the Succubus could be hiding out?"

"Yeah, we've got some leads."

"I finished that assignment," I lied, mainly because I was avoiding what I really wanted to say. "Worked on it all day today." The truth was, I hadn't even looked at the topic.

"That's good, son," was my father's reply.

There was a small period of silence. I was hesitating. I had to stop hesitating.

"I was wondering... There are no tests or anything for the rest of the week. It wouldn't hurt if I'd miss school. I can take a bus up to meet you and Sam. I can help with the case.

"Your brother and I have it covered."

"Dad, please, I-"

There was a sigh from the other end. "You're not ready, Dean. Not now."

I felt my spirit crumble. I had come to my own conclusions about why my father had refused to let me go on a hunt these last few months, but to have it stated by the man? It felt like shit. "Dad, I know I... I know I messed up. I know it was my fault that-" I couldn't finish the sentence. For the life of me, I could not say those words. Not aloud to my father. Not aloud in this empty motel room. I wanted to curse myself for being so fucking weak. "It won't happen again," I said instead. "I promise you. I can-"

"You can't make that kind of promise, Dean." My father's voice was stern. Almost angry. "The sooner you realize that, the better. You want to hunt again? Then prove to me you're ready. You can start by focusing on your grades. By brushing up on your Latin. By doing any godforsaken thing other than begging me to hunt again."

I opened my mouth to speak, but I didn't know what to say. My father didn't trust me anymore. He felt he could rely on Sam more than he could me, and maybe he was right. I had let him down. I had let that woman down. I had let myself down. I wasn't a good hunter. I couldn't even battle my own nightmares, whether sleeping or awake. I was fucking pathetic.

"Yes, sir," I heard myself say. It was more of an automatic response than anything.

"Me and your brother will be back soon. Shouldn't be more than a few days now."

I didn't know if I said anything in reply, or if my father said anything more. I had checked out of the conversation. The next thing I was aware of was the dial tone, loud and angry. Then I was mechanically hanging up the phone and walking over to the lamp to turn the light off, too numb to think much about my actions. I didn't even bother to undress as the room was plunged into darkness. I simply crawled into bed fully clothed, closing my eyes and willing myself to sleep.

The whiskey bottle I had bought earlier was left untouched on the dresser. I would welcome the nightmares tonight. I would relive that moment over and over again, because I deserved it.

I deserved every fucking moment of it.


	4. Thursday

**7:10 AM**

_Mornings suck._

That's what I thought to myself as I ignored the time displayed on the alarm clock and closed my eyes again.

_They really fucking suck._

**9: 45 PM**

By the time I woke up again I had missed most of my morning classes. Second period was already well underway, and even if I managed to leave the motel now I still wouldn't be able to make it for more than the last five minutes. There really was no point... But I knew my dad would be pissed with me if I missed a full day of school, and I needed to ask my English teacher for an extension on my assignment. I didn't need him calling my dad again, letting the man know I had lied to him.

I took my time getting up, swinging my legs onto the floor and sitting on the edge of the bed for awhile. Looking around the motel room, at the cracks in the ceiling and the tears in the wallpaper, I recalled Bryce flopping onto one of the beds, stating that the place wasn't half bad. I would have chuckled at the memory if it wasn't for the headache that pounded through my skull.

I hadn't slept well, but I couldn't remember what I had dreamt of last night, or if I had at all. The bedsheets had been wound around my legs when I had woken up, probably caused by me twisting and turning, but as hard as I tried to remember my mind turned up nothing. Sometimes that happened. Sometimes I was given respite for no reason, and I wondered what I had done to be granted relief for two days in a row.

Standing up reluctantly, I made my way to the bathroom, noting that I still looked like hell as I glanced at myself in the mirror. Despite the sleep I had received, dark circles encompassed my eyes, making my face look sunken. Or maybe that was the lack of eating on my part. My appetite wasn't what it used to be. My skin was as pale as a ghost from lack of sun, and my hair needed a cut. As I rubbed my morning shadow I wondered if I should shave but eventually decided to keep the stubble. After all, it had only started growing in recently, and chicks seemed to dig it.

I splashed some water on my face and smoothed down my hair, trying to look at least somewhat presentable for school. Dressing in a pair of jeans and a Metallica t-shirt, I didn't even bother to grab my backpack. I left it sitting in the corner of the room as I locked the door behind me, my phone in my jacket pocket along with my wallet. I didn't need anything else.

It was half-way through lunch by the time I made it to school. The east gate was open for students, so I walked in without a problem, not having to resort to scaling the wall to avoid getting a scolding. I paid a quick visit to the admissions office, using my charm to convince the woman working there that a family emergency had caused my lateness, and that a call to my father wouldn't be necessary. Then I made my way to the cafeteria and my spot next to Katie.

She was sitting with two of her friends when I arrived, a girl I didn't recognize and another one I remembered only barely from stats class. They were shushed away before I could even reach the table, and when I sat down Katie took my arm and batted her eyelashes at me. "I was worried you had caught that nasty flu going around when you didn't come to school yesterday," she said, her blue eyes focused on me. "Are you okay?"

I would have felt flattered that she cared so much if I didn't see her worry for what it truly was: a prod to see whether or not I was showing disinterest in her. Just like her complaints when I didn't sit with her at lunch, she was on the lookout for any signs that I was going to dump her, because she couldn't risk being the dumpee. No, she always had to be the one who did the dumping. It wouldn't do to have it the other way around. That was a stain on her reputation she could not afford to have.

"I'm fine," I told her, giving her my best impersonation of a real smile. "Just had to help my dad with something yesterday. It's all good now."

That seemed to satisfy her, because she stopped asking me about my absence and began to fill me in on all of the gossip I had missed in the past twenty-four hours. As she twirled her long hair around a finger, I heard all about how the Kellogg twins were dating the same guy, and how it had been revealed that Kimberly Treese was bulimic, though Katie had always suspected.

I didn't see Bryce until Katie took a moment to stop talking and actually take a bite of her lunch. I was surprised when I spotted him sitting at the table with the group of girls he had been with Monday afternoon. I hadn't seen him in the cafeteria since that day, and I idly wondered if one of the girls had caught him before he had slipped outside, or if he had simply decided to join them out of his his own free will.

Maybe he had decided to lie for once.

I watched as his eyes shifted from the lanky brunette sitting beside him to my table. When his eyes met mine, I found I looked away without meaning to. It was a reaction I couldn't stop, and I wondered if it was because of what had happened yesterday. Bryce had seen a side of me that no one at this school ever had, and I wasn't exactly thrilled about that. Not even my dad or brother had witnessed one of my attacks.

I focused on Katie again as she went into detail about how her friend Sydney had heard Kimberly throwing up in the girl's second floor bathroom. I wondered how Katie could eat her pasta as she talked about human vomit, and all along I watched out of the corner of my eye as Bryce rose from his seat and excused himself from his table.

The guy was heading in my direction, and I wondered if he was on his way to speak with me. I cursed beneath my breath because I didn't want him asking questions about what had transpired yesterday, especially not in front of Katie. I didn't need my own personal business being broadcast to the entirety of Kimberley Trenton High School.

When Bryce was halfway to my table three figures suddenly blocked him from my view. I swivelled my head around to see what was happening, and discovered that the three guys from the convenience store were blocking Bryce's path. I was worried a fight was going to break out right in the middle of the cafeteria, but then Brad and his friends were moving along, walking passed Bryce with only a few shoulder collisions delivered. I didn't know if they had exchanged any words, but I almost sighed in relief. If something had gone down I probably would have gotten involved, and what I really didn't need right now was a call to my dad from the principal, telling him I had been suspended.

Bryce stood still in the aisle for a moment, maybe wondering if a fight was worth it after all, but then he seemed to think better of it and continued on his way to mine and Katie's table.

"Hey," he greeted me as he reached us.

Katie's non-stop chattering abruptly halted, and I watched as she turned her head slowly to look at the intruder, a look of utter non-belief on her face.

"What's up?" I asked casually, trying to signal to Bryce to run.

"What are you doing?" Katie asked in the bitchiest tone possible. It was as if she couldn't believe Bryce had the balls to approach her table, let alone interrupt her.

Bryce glanced at Katie before returning his stare to me. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay," he said, suddenly unsure of his words. "After... yesterday."

"Yesterday?" came Katie's high-pitched voice. "What happened yesterday?"

"Nothing," I said roughly, but it was too late. Katie was a magnet for gossip, and I knew it wasn't in her capabilities to let something like this go. She would get to the bottom of this story if she had to tear it out of us with her manicured hands. Sometimes I thought facing a vicious Black Dog was less frightening then facing a determined Katie, but I didn't dwell on that idea for long.

"Are you two friends or something?" She looked back and forth between me and Bryce, focusing on me, piercing me with a warning gaze. "Are you friends with him, Dean?"

I didn't know why Katie disliked Bryce so much, but I knew what she was capable of. I knew she could make Bryce's life a living hell. Was I supposed to stand up for him right now? Was I supposed to put him on Katie's hit list and then transfer in a week, leaving him to fend for himself? That didn't seem right.

"I barely know him," I said, scowling. "Why the fuck would I hang out with him?"

God, his expression. Like I had betrayed him or something. But then the look of hurt was gone and it was replaced with... nothing. An expressionless mask, like the one he had worn the first day I had met him.

"I'm sorry, I..." he looked away from me, his words directed to Katie. "I was confused. I thought... Yeah, I don't know him." Then he was walking away, probably headed towards the library to continue reading Lord of the Rings. Maybe to the east gate where he'd wait out the rest of lunch, away from the girls who pestered him so much.

I didn't watch him go. Instead, I ate a bit of the pasta on Katie's plate, barely tasting it.

"God, what a freak," Katie said as she turned back to the table, having watched Bryce leave the cafeteria. She took her fork from me but then tossed it on on her plate again, leaning back in her chair. "Made me lose my appetite. Why would he even come here and talk to us?"

I didn't say anything, really just wanting to get up and get as far away from Katie as possible. Her words were harsh, unneeded, and I fought the urge to tell her off. Who the fuck was she to call Bryce a freak? She didn't know the guy. She hadn't eaten Korean food with him, or watched SNL reruns at three in the morning with him. She probably didn't even know he had a sister who loved elephants. She had no right to judge him.

Then again, I had done the same thing when I had met him, hadn't I? I had lumped him in alongside all of the other naive, self-involved teenagers that filled this school's hallways. He had been nothing but a weird kid who liked to scale walls and date girls for a week. We all judged. We were all judged. It was a never-ending cycle that couldn't be broken. Not until you really got to know someone. Even then, our judgements were very often wrong.

"What time should I be over tonight?" I asked, trying to change the subject. Katie's mood seemed to lighten after that, as she went into details about what to expect at her birthday party. Her parents were already in Barbados, where they would be staying for the weekend, and I was welcome to sleep over for multiple nights if I wanted to. I wondered if Katie really was willing to lose her virginity to me, a guy she wasn't even really dating, but I didn't dwell on that thought for long.

Instead, I kept thinking about that look of betrayal on Bryce's face. Did he really think we weren't friends anymore? Had he not understood that I was just protecting him, that my words had been harsh for a reason? The more I thought about it, the more it bothered me, until I couldn't stand sitting at this table any longer.

Telling Katie I needed to use the washroom, I got up and brought her tray to one of the garbage cans, dumping the remaining pasta before making my way to the east gate. I wasn't sure if I would find Bryce there, but I got lucky. As I exited the building I saw his bag sitting on the ground just outside the gate, and I picked it up as I rounded the corner.

"You've really got to clean this thing," I said as I began to brush the dirt from it. Bryce was looking up at me where he sat crouched in the same position he had been the other day, his mouth not smiling, his eyebrows pulled down in a frown. "What, you think it looks better with the mud stains? You trying to turn it into a camo bag or something?"

He stood up suddenly, snatching his bag away from me and making his way back into the school.

"Hey, whoa. Hey. Look at me." I managed to stop him by grabbing his arm and forcing him to face me. "Tell me what's going on. What's wrong?"

"Like you fucking care."

"Are you pissed at me or something? Because of what happened back there with Katie?" He glared at me, but he didn't say a word. "Oh, come on, Bryce. Who cares if Katie knows if we're friends or not? It's none of her business anyway."

"Exactly," he stated. "Who cares? But you do, obviously. I thought you were different. I really did."

I was taken-aback. "Different? What does that mean?"

He gestured at the school. "They're all the same. They're all blind to what's out here. They're all stuck in this little world they've created, where the worse thing that can happen is you fail a chemistry test or your crush starts dating someone else."

I looked at the school and then back at Bryce. "Yeah, so they're all morons."

"And so are you," he blurted out. "I thought you were different, that you didn't care about how they saw your or what they thought of you, but I was wrong. You're _just_ like them."

I frowned, not liking the idea of being compared to people like Katie or Brad. "I don't give a fuck about what they think, Bryce."

"Then why did you lie?"

I was getting angry. _This_ was why I stayed out of peoples' business. _This_ was why I didn't make friends. I try to help Bryce and he accuses me of deceiving him? "Because I knew if Katie found out we were friends she would make your life a living hell," I explained.

"You mean you weren't afraid she'd dump you?"

"Dump me?" I almost laughed. "We're not really dating. I don't even like Katie."

He looked at me like I was insane. "Then why do you hang out with her every lunch? Why do you play the part? Why do you put up with everything she says and does?"

I opened my mouth to respond, to defend myself, but I suddenly realized I didn't have any words to say.

He scoffed. "Yeah, you are just like them. You go around ignoring everything that you don't want to deal with, comfortable in your own little world, never daring to peek outside, even just a little, even if it's what you want. You probably do just want to sleep with her."

"Bryce-"

"No, I don't want to hear it. You might think what you did back there was you protecting me, but I don't need your help, Dean. I don't need you to be friends with me. I don't need anything from you."

He stomped away and I fought the urge to go after him. What the fuck did I care what he thought? I had been stupid to call him a friend. How could Bryce be my friend if he didn't even know the most important thing about me? I could never tell him that I was a Hunter. He could never know that I was more different from the people in this school than he could ever imagine.

I didn't have friends for a reason. And I didn't need friends. All I needed was my father and my brother and I was set.

_But you don't even have_ them _right now_ , I thought to myself as I watched the school door swing shut behind Bryce. I thought about going to fourth period English, to ask my teacher about that extension, but I suddenly didn't give a fuck whether or not he called my dad. I wanted to get as far away from school as possible.

**9:43 PM**

By the time ten o'clock was rolling around I had spent most of my day sharpening knives and cleaning pistols. I knew my dad would have wanted me to keep the equipment he had left at the motel in tip-top shape, and I wasn't about to let him down. I would skip school and fail assignments, but there was no way I would deliberately disappoint him when it came to hunting.

As I finished with the last knife, its edge a gleaming masterpiece, I placed the duffel bag of weapons in the closet and I considered my options for the rest of the day. I didn't really feel like going to Katie's party, but the thought of spending another night in this motel room alone was enough to drive me insane. That and the non-stop complaining I knew would await me at lunch tomorrow if I missed Katie's birthday celebration.

So I got dressed for the event, trading in my Metallica t-shirt for a button-down plaid shirt. It wasn't much of an improvement but I wasn't concerned about meeting dress codes. Then I grabbed the whiskey bottle I had left alone the other night and took a few swigs, eventually deciding to bring the thing with me. If the police decided to stop me for public drinking, so be it.

Katie and her parents lived near the boardwalk, and I got a few strange glances on the bus ride there as I continued to sip from the whiskey bottle. By the time I reached my stop I was already feeling a little buzzed. I'd like to say the alcohol was the reason why I had gotten off at the wrong stop, but I knew there was another reason.

I looked around, realizing that I had exited the bus three stops too early. This was where Bryce and I had gotten off when we had decided to go see a movie the other day. Had we played hooky only yesterday? It felt much longer than that. Maybe that was because we had gone from friends to strangers in that time.

I glanced down the street at the theatre, willing myself not to follow through with my plan. It was a stupid idea, for the promise I had made yesterday on the boardwalk had become null as soon as Bryce had told me to fuck off. Yet even with all of these good reasons to turn away and head to the party, before I knew it I was standing in front of the movie theatre. I made my way passed the ticket booth, being ignored by an employee who clearly didn't care enough about his job to stop me, and then to the claw machine by theatre four.

I knew I was already late for the party and Katie would be pissed, but I didn't care. I was just glad that the stupid purple elephant was still there, hanging by its trunk like it was hanging on for dear life. It took me fifteen minutes, seven bucks, and a string of curses, but I eventually got it off of the ledge, the stuffed animal finally falling into the box and into my hands.

Stuffing the elephant into my jacket pocket, I quickly left the theatre and continued my journey to Katie's place, sipping from the whiskey bottle until it was almost half empty. I eventually made it to my destination, impressed by the building's clean image and the presence of a concierge dressed in a funny little uniform in the foyer. Not to mention the fancy elevator that took me up to the penthouse. This was no rundown motel.

I could hear the music blaring before the elevator doors even opened, and I didn't bother to knock on the front door, knowing no one would hear me over the din. As I let myself in I was surprised by the amount of people I saw in the apartment. I had thought Katie was only going to invite a 'select few' individuals, but it looked like half the grade was here. The birthday girl didn't seem phased by the amount of people, however. She greeted me with a kiss when she saw me, clearly drunk enough to not even be pissed that I was late.

"Dean!" she shouted over the music. "You made it." She hugged me, spilling a bit of her drink on my shoulder, and Bryce's words echoed through my head.

" _Why do you play the part?"_

I looked around at the party-goers, at the teenagers I thought I was so better than, and suddenly I realized Bryce was right. I was part of the cliche. I was the guy who put up with Katie's crap just so I could get laid. I was the asshole who separated myself from everyone else, thinking I was special, when really I was just like them all. Knowing about the Supernatural world did not give me some magical pass.

I gently pushed Katie away, about to tell her I was leaving, when she kissed me again. If I wasn't drunk myself I probably would have had the self-respect to break away, but as she slipped her tongue into my mouth my mind stopped thinking.

"What's in your pocket?" she asked as she suddenly drew her lips away, looking down at my jacket. She was reaching into my pocket, drawing out the stuffed animal. "Aww. Is this my present? It's so cute! I love it."

I felt the urge to snatch it away from her, but I fought it. I didn't even know why I had gone through the trouble of winning the stuffed animal. It wasn't like I was planning to give it to Bryce or anything. Still, seeing it in Katie's hands bothered me.

Before I could ask Katie to give it back, there was the sound of the door banging open and I looked over my shoulder, watching as Brad entered the apartment like he owned the place. The redhead was dressed in a wrinkled green polo, his hair in disarray, and I could tell he was drunk out of his mind. The beer can in his hand was just a confirmation.

He came up to us, blowing on one of those party blowers, yelling happy birthday at the top of his lungs. Then he noticed me. "What the fuck is he doing here?" he asked, a stupid expression on his face as he jabbed a finger at me. I was about to tell him to fuck off when Katie spoke up.

"I invited him here, Brad," she announced. "God, what's your problem?"

Brad grunted, giving me a once over before accepting my presence. "Whatever."

Suddenly the rest of his gang were pushing themselves into the apartment, already drunk as well. "Yo,guess who we just saw outside," Andrew called out as he used Big Guy's shoulders to hoist himself up into the air excitedly. "Bryce fucking Caldwell."

I narrowed my eyes at the trio, not liking the idea of three intoxicated bullies cornering Bryce outside.

"Ugh," Katie exclaimed. "Please don't tell me you guys picked a fight with him again,"

"Nah," Brad said before he drained his beer. "Looked like he'd already gotten a good beat down. Wasn't much left for us to do."

The three of them laughed as they pushed deeper into the apartment, towards the keg where they would fill their cups and resume getting pissed drunk. I pushed back my own drunkenness, going over their words, trying to make sense of them. If Brad and his little gang hadn't beaten up Bryce, then who had?

I turned to Katie, to ask her if she might know, when I was stopped by the expression on her face. She looked guilty, her eyebrows pulled down in worry, her mouth a thin line, her eyes glossy. A very bad feeling settled in my stomach.

I took her arm and led her into a hallway, away from the crowd. "What the fuck are they talking about, Katie?" I asked her as we regained a small amount of quiet.

She looked startled by my words. "You never heard?" she asked quietly as she looked up at me.

"Heard what?" She glanced away, her expression crumpling. I leaned forward, locking eyes with her. "Tell me."

"It was... quite a while ago," she began, her words slurring together only a little. "The Caldwells had a daughter before they adopted Bryce. Her name was Marina and she was my best friend growing up. I still remember how excited she was when she told me she was getting a baby brother. I think there was something wrong with Mrs. Caldwell, so adoption was their only choice. For the next year they were, like, the happiest family. But then something really awful happened."

She looked down at the ground as if she couldn't bare to continue, or maybe she was just trying not to throw up. I wasn't exactly sure how much alcohol she had consumed before I had shown up. I reached a hand out to touch her arm. "Tell me, please."

She seemed to gather her strength before continuing. "It was an accident," she said. "Marina was seven, Bryce only five. They were just being kids. Bryce dared Marina to climb the tree in their backyard. If you had known her, you'd know that Marina never backed down from a dare. She even ate a worm once when I dared her. So she climbed the tree, but on her way down she slipped and she fell. She hit her head and she… she died."

I felt my body go cold.

"It wasn't Bryce's fault, but the Caldwells… Especially Mr. Caldwell, he always blamed Bryce for Marina's death. It drove the whole family to the brink. Mrs. Caldwell began taking prescription pills and now I hear she's useless. She just lies around in bed all day in some kind of drug coma. Mr. Caldwell lost his job and he spends most of his time at the bar. Bryce still lives with them, but I've heard such awful things… They don't treat him like a son. They blame him for what's become of them. When Mr. Caldwell gets really drunk he gets really mad too, and when Bryce is home… He usually does a good job at covering the bruises and pretending that everything is okay at school, but everyone knows."

I didn't realize I'd been clenching my fists until I felt my nails dig into my palms. "Everyone knows?" I asked. "Then why hasn't anyone stopped it?" I couldn't believe that an entire community was capable of ignoring something that was so wrong and so very obvious. Maybe the students, but the teachers? The principal?

Katie looked guilty. "People have tried, but Bryce... Bryce never admitted that he was being beaten. He would just always make excuses. Lies."

_I don't lie._ Bryce's words were like a brick hitting me in the head now, sobering me up. I should have known that only a liar would ever claim such a thing.

"Why didn't anyone try harder?" I snarled. "How could you just stand around, making fun of him, knowing that all of this was going on?"

She had tears in her eyes but I didn't care. "He wouldn't let anyone help," she said quietly, pleading with me to understand. "After awhile we all just gave up. If he didn't want help then why should we keep offering it? We all just thought he was weird for taking the abuse. I'm sorry. I-"

I grabbed her by the arms, shaking her, the anger in me too much to control. "Did you not ever stop and consider _why_ he was taking the abuse? Did you not think that maybe, just _maybe_ , he felt he deserved it? That he was punishing himself for Marina's death? Did that never occur to you people?"

Katie was crying now, tears mixing with her mascara and running down her face in black rivulets. "What could I have done?" she sobbed. "Marina was my friend. I know it wasn't really his fault, but if he had never been adopted then she would still be alive."

I let go of her like she was suddenly a live wire and took a step back. I understood what she was saying, but to punish someone for something they could not have foreseen... To allow them to believe that it was their fault for killing someone they would have done anything to protect... It was basic cruelty.

"Where is he going?" I asked, my voice cold.

"I- I don't know."

She was hesitating. "Katie, please tell me. Bryce doesn't live around here. If he passed by your building, where could he be going?"

"I'm not positive," she stated. "But he could be going to the graveyard."

"The graveyard?"

She nodded her head, her eyes sad. "To visit Marina. To see his sister."


End file.
